


A Song for Xx

by omgpeachsnapple



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: A Benihana Christmas, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Compliant, Christmas Party, Emotional Hurt, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Mistletoe, Season 3, mistletoe kiss, sad fic, this is not a happy story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgpeachsnapple/pseuds/omgpeachsnapple
Summary: The rivalry of the parties finally having died, Pam takes a margarita for herself and settles back at her desk
Relationships: Karen Filippelli/Jim Halpert, Pam Beesly & Jim Halpert, Pam Beesly/Jim Halpert
Kudos: 13





	A Song for Xx

Why am I crying?  
Why am I hesitating?

Why are you laughing?  
Why are you by my side?  
Why are you leaving?

When did I become strong?  
When did I know I was weak?  
How long will I have to wait  
Until the day we understand each other?

—

A Song for Xx  
2020

—

The rivalry of the parties finally having died, Pam takes a margarita for herself and settles back at her desk, watching the rest of her coworkers with a smile over the rim of her cup.  
Andy is dancing erratically in the middle of the room; he brings up a knee and almost collides with Ryan, who is standing nearby.  
“Easy, man,” Ryan snaps and turns his attention back to Kelly.  
“You should have punched him,” Kelly says brightly. Ryan simply sighs and rolls his eyes, while Andy drops his leg to the ground, his eyes wide and an expression of betrayal splashes across his face.  
Karen is singing happily into the microphone, looking carefree and a little tipsy. Jim’s lips are twisted into an amused smirk. He grins broadly as he turns to a camera, pointing empathically at Karen.  
Pam fights through a stab of jealousy and she takes a long drink to block the view of them.  
 _Stop it,_ she chides herself for the thousandth time, bringing her cup back down. Losing Jim had been her own, stupid fault. Feeling jealous and sulking wouldn’t change anything.  
Glancing back at Karen and Jim, she sees Jim watching her steadily, an odd expression on his face. It is quickly replaced by a smile and a small wave when he catches her eye, which she returns as butterflies swarm through her.  
She looks away first, down to her empty cup. She is briefly surprised, wondering where went already.  
Jim is back to watching Karen again as Pam rises from her desk and he looks so god damn happy that Pam can’t stop the tide of jealousy that washes over her, rocking her with the intensity of it.  
 _Stupid_ , she calls herself bitterly.  
She goes through the kitchen, stopping to smile tightly at Angela, who is exiting the restroom, to the annex, before arriving at the break room. They hadn’t bothered to move the margarita machines and Pam is glad for the empty room. She takes a deep, shaky breath to steady herself. She won’t cry. She won’t let herself.  
She places the cup under the spout, turning the machine on. The margarita machine springs to life. Pam closes her eyes, listening to the gentle whirring of the machine, relishing the moment to herself, a moment to calm herself.  
“Hey.”  
His quiet voice cuts through her, violently dousing the small candles of her tranquility.  
 _Oh god damn it._  
She steels herself before turning to face him, forcing a sunny smile onto her face. Jim is standing in the doorway, his arms folded. He is still wearing that same guarded, odd expression.  
“Hey! Enjoying the party?” Her cheerful voice sounds forced and shrill and she inwardly cringes.  
“Oh, yeah. It’s a blast.”  
She wants to believe he’s being sarcastic but his eyes suddenly sparkle and his smile is genuine.  
“You won’t believe what Michael did,” Jim continues. He leans forward conspiratorially, his face full of mischief. For a brief, fleeting moment, she allows herself to hope. Hope that they are them again, that nothing stands between them, that they can be silly and giggle together again. Jim and Pam again.  
But the moment passes as Jim catches himself. He blinks and straightens and although he still smiles, the mischief is gone, replaced by something cold and sad.  
“It doesn’t matter.” He clears his throat, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.  
“Jim,” she starts to say but an obnoxious laugh barks out behind Jim.  
“Uh oh! Jimbo!” Michael crows. Pam can’t see him from behind Jim until Jim pushes away from the doorframe to face their boss.  
Michael is giggling wildly, his gaze focused on the top of the doorway.  
Mistletoe.  
 _Oh no._  
Her heart leaps giddily while her stomach simultaneously drops. It is not a pleasant combination.  
Jim appears frozen, his mouth open in shock or horror, Pam can’t tell. She knew he wouldn’t be pleased but he didn’t need to look so ... appalled. He won’t look at her.  
“Merry Christmas!” Michael cackles, tossing his arms in the air triumphantly. He winks at Jim before dancing away.  
“He sure was proud of himself.” Pam chokes out the words. Her throat feels tight, swollen. She is trying to keep things light.  
“Yeah,” Jim breaths softly. His voice is strangely husky.  
“We don’t - it’s silly -“ Pam stutters out. She feels like an idiot.  
“Yeah,” Jim says again in the same voice and it makes Pam want to ball her fists and scream at him to say something, something comforting, something dumb, _anything_. He still won’t look at her and her heart is breaking, again, shattered glass that can never be put back together all the way because that one vital piece is gone, gone forever, like a hat lost at sea, never to be seen again.  
Belatedly, she realizes his hand has clasped her wrist and he is pulling her toward him. She tries to look at him, to see what he might be thinking but he surges forward and his lips collide with hers. Shock courses through her, replaced by a fire so fierce she fears it will consume them both. He kisses her thoroughly, fiercely. She laces her fingers through his, unwilling to let him go as he pulls away from her. But not all the way, not yet.  
“Merry Christmas, Pam,” he whispers against her ear. His voice is strangled, his breathing erratic. His warm breath tickles her cheek and sends shivers shooting down her spine. Her cheeks flush and her fingers tingle where she touched him. She still burns all over from the rush of the kiss, the sheer force and pleasure of it; she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Jim pulls back further, steadily holding her gaze. Something flashes in the depths of his eyes, something somber, mournful. She starts to lift her hand, to touch his cheek, his lips, his brow, she isn’t sure. She freezes as she returns to herself with a solid, dizzying crash. He isn’t hers. He won’t ever be. This moment was nothing, a silly Christmas tradition. It meant nothing and she meant nothing to him. Nothing like she wanted, anyway.  
As if to solidify her thoughts, Jim stands straight, squaring his shoulders. He is so tall but he looks diminished somehow. He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor.  
And then he turns wordlessly, walking briskly away.  
“Merry Christmas, Jim,” she whispers to his retreating figure. The kitchen door swings closed behind him.  
And, finally, she cries.


End file.
